The Malleability of the Criminal Mind
by Cinderfire16
Summary: There are not enough Spencer Reid: Quiet Badass fics that tickle my fancy, so I decided to write one of my own. This is very much inspired by VioletOakCypress's Enemy of my Enemy so definitely go read that because it is BEAUTIFUL! But hopefully I don't outright copy anything. Or: The one where a shady CIA program scooped up 12 year old Spencer Reid... with a few twists.
1. Chapter 1

**Past (2003)**

They'd been on a mission that involved he and his partner attending a ball, though he had no clue why everyone assumed he dragged her to these things when it was quite the other way around. He preferred playing arm-candy, the tall, mysterious, man who had the most fortune of being ever by the lady's side. They both observed, but he worked better from the sidelines, taking in the room with a cool, calculating glare while she swept in, surprising everyone she encountered with her beauty and cleverness.

"Remind me again why I agreed to this." The young man murmured to both his spectators and his companions via linked earpieces. The devices, subdermal implants located just below the flap of the ear, would never be found by the common eye even if one went looking for them. This was only half the reason the crowd avoided him like the plague, the other reason being that they were far too enamoured by their partners (and his) to spare him a glance.

"Perhaps you are hoping to get lucky, my friend." A smooth voice rumbled lowly. The back of his neck tingled as a man who looked to be a few years older than him stepped in front of him. Well-dressed in a white tuxedo and a black shirt with a red bowtie, the newcomer looked far more elegant than he could dare to dream. However, his focus remained on the man's face. Pale from years indoors, eyes an electric blue and black hair slicked back into a ponytail for tonight's events.

"Then again, your partner seems to love the attention being lavished upon her, so maybe not."

She did seem to be having more fun than usual playing this part… when this was all over, the man resolved, brown eyes flashing, he'd take her dancing. For now, he was content to address the brother of the host.

"She's more than privy to the same from me, but I am only one man." He snorted. "To what do I owe the honor of this conversation?"  
"You looked lost, my friend, and I wished to enquire as to why that was. I now know that it is nothing against our house, but I might have a few ideas to take your mind off of things." The blue-eyed man purred.

"I'd rather have your name, my good man. We may converse again in the near future, but as you can see, I am hopelessly devoted to my wife."

"Ah a man so struck by love that he would follow his chosen to the depths of purgatory." The host's brother dipped his head. "That is indeed to be admired. Pelitreo Calvin at your service, my friend, but you are free to call me Leo."

"Collin Parker. A pleasure, I'm sure." That seemed to brighten the man's mood, because his eyes lit up in a way Collin hadn't thought previously possible.

"You are Malcolm's associate!" Leo purred. "An honor to meet you, Dr. Parker. Malcolm has spoken most highly of your breakthroughs in the various results that can stem from genetic mutation!"

Although it was something that he dabbled in due to his own quest to figure out just what the fuck was wrong with him, he actually did have a degree in a rare section of psychology that dealt with the human mind and how other people reacted to emotions. This was the basis for what Dr. Collin Parker specialized in, and he was surprised to actually meet someone so interested in his work!

 _Could this man be like me…?_

All hopes of a response were killed when his partner's voice murmured swiftly in his ear.

"Malcolm is heading your way." She informed him. He twitched an ear and Calvin, Leo, he insisted, zoomed back into focus, a concerned look on his face.

"Malcolm did not mention that you were prone to zoning out." The host's brother murmured nervously. "Would you like a place to rest?"

"No, thank you. It is a bad habit of mine, but I have held up well enough so far. Speaking of Malcolm, he's right behind you."

The man in question was their current foot-in-the-door. Malcolm Coral has been worming his way into the Calvin family for the past five years, but when he began to show signs of dropping out, the organization that employed them, known to various governments as The Crusade, sent people to check on him and complete his mission should the need arise. This was why Collin and his wife, Layla, were here tonight.

"Collin, old boy, Ecstatic to see you and the lovely Missus could make it!" Malcolm crowed.

"Wonderful to see you as well, Malcolm, you look as brilliant as ever." Collin dipped his head.

Malcolm embraced his friend fondly before turning to the blue-eyes man beside him.

"Leo, old buddy old pal, glad to see you were able to cheer my friend up so easily. He's normally not so swayed. At any rate, you simply must try the horduerves here! They're absolutely mouth-watering!" Malcolm offered excitedly.

"You're always trying to fatten me up, Mal, and you continue to fail." Collin chuckled as warmly as possible. Something Collin would say for a fact was true about Malcolm: the man loved his food. Would have been just as happy becoming a chef in some fancy restaurant as he was gathering intel. Malcolm and Leo were receptive in their own ways, so Collin guessed that he'd succeeded in being more at ease.

His personal psychologist said he needed to get out more. Apparently focusing on how people reacted to him was not all there was to being human. He had to adjust accordingly, and make it genuine. Add some inflection, speak louder, smile every once in awhile.

Put on a show worth watching and make that show your life, was how Dr. Loka phrased it. He was a pleasant man, quite a few years older than Collin himself, though they shared near the same qualifications. The man was not one to be jealous, and Collin actually enjoyed his time with the psych, spent as much time as he could learning from the older man, who he viewed as something of a mentor.

"Do either of you have a particular favorite?"

That was definitely the right question to ask, because Leo and Malcolm dragged him over to the appetizers and the trio spent the next few hours feasting on endless finger foods. Layla joined them every ten or so minutes five times in a row before she eventually followed the man she was with out of the dance hall.

"Your wife seems free to do as she wishes." Leo mused, watching them from the corner of his eye.

"Layla is her own person, and while I do love her dearly, I have never been interested in pleasures of the flesh."  
"And she does not forsake you for it?"

"Despite having every reason to." Collin snorted.

The truth was a bit more grey. While he had no problem with having sex, he wasn't always interested. Layla was a bit further up the ladder than he, but she was nowhere near as ridiculous as he was making her out to be.

"Well," Leo snorted. "Let us hope the lucky man has the time of his life."

"Here, here!" Collin and Malcolm chanted, clinking their drinks.

* * *

Eventually, the attendees began to dwindle in number. Somewhere around an hour later, Collin went in search of his wife. He strode out the door he recalled them using. Her ragged breaths and uneasy warnings led him down more than a few long-winded hallways and up to the roof before he found what he was looking for.

Calvin stood at the edge of the building, his arm wrapped around Darcy Parker's neck and a gun to her head. How they had gotten to the roof he had no idea, but there was no time to play with could-haves when his partner was in serious trouble. She'd been meant to lead him away from the party and then kill him, either with a gun or the fast-acting poison that her lipstick was made of. The effects were starting to be seen even now, because Calvin shook as he held the weapon. Darcy saw her chance and yanked herself backward, scrambling over the ledge and back onto stable ground.

"I don't know what's wrong with you, but you're obviously insane." She sneered.

"If I can't have you, Madeline, then no one can!"

"That's not my name, you raging jackass!" She spat. Calvin flung his arms and the gun fired; the bullet flung into the wall. Calvin lost his balance and disappeared over the side with an anguished howl.

Collin crept forward and peered over the edge of the roof. There was no mistaking the man on the ground, especially as several guards rushed forward and declared him dead with strangled vehemence. Collin exhaled roughly and turned his back on the scene.

"Are you alright?" Collin asked when he reached Darcy. His wife nodded shakily.

"He seriously tried to kill me just now. He didn't know anything about me, but apparently I reminded him of someone he couldn't live without."

"That's been happening a lot lately. What do you think, should we take a break from all this?"

"I… yeah, a break would be heaven."

* * *

"Well done." Jacob Faulkner was a man best known for results, and right now, he had everything he needed. As a handler for an organization known as The Crusade, his job was to mold young people into operatives for missions that most spies with years of training would not be able to complete. Something about innocence, the Head Director once claimed.

The trio before him consisted of two young men and a young woman, barely into their twenties but with years of training under their respective belts. They'd just returned from causing what was bound to be absolute chaos in Slovakia. Already, the Calvins were scurrying to get things under control and would be busy for a few years, by the estimate of analysts at The Crusade. This was thanks, in major part, to the team before them.

The Crusade has, over the years, sent officers to infiltrate (or even get some kind of info on) the Calvin family. Responsible for a good majority of the terror taking place in Eastern Europe, the Clavins were loyal to no one… not even their own. Such organized chaos made them hard to get a handle on, but they'd managed to eliminate a major player tonight and, at the very least, start a power struggle.

"Do you have any idea where you'd like to go next?" Faulkner was by no means young. Hair graying at the temples and often-faded green eyes on a weathered face made him look just like any other person out of the street… but that face held many secrets and those eyes held intelligence beyond measure. He knew good and well that one of his crew wouldn't be staying on much longer, but which one…

"Spencer," He murmured calmly. "Is there anything new you would like to try?"  
The young man formerly addressed as Dr. Collin Parker did not fidget. He held his handler's piercing green gaze without fear but inside, his mind was whirling.

How did he know?!

"It's quite alright, Dr. Reid, to pursue a different lifestyle than the one you currently have. There's a reason that some of your peers are no longer with us."  
Dead or gone… and he wasn't dead. He'd made it. This was their last mission, their final test! So why did he feel so empty inside…?

"I think I'd like to go into profiling." Reid choked out. "Get a few more degrees on the way."

"Are you sure you know what profiling is? What you'd be getting into is eerily similar to what you've been doing."  
"I did my research." Reid growled. "It's what I'm good at." He insisted. "And if I find out more about what I want along the way, I can always change. That is what chameleons do."  
"Yes, Dr. Reid, it is…" Faulkner trailed off thoughtfully. "Since you two haven't spoken up, I expect you both back at 1200 hours in three days' time. Spencer, I'll have your papers by the end of the week."

With a final nod, the trio was dismissed and Faulkner was back to being alone with his own thoughts… and paperwork. If there was one thing ever so mind-numbingly boring, it was paperwork. Wonderful stress-reliever sometimes.


	2. Chapter 2

The case they have is an older woman. Mackenzie Waller was sixty-two years old with silver hair and brown eyes. Her pale skin was sallow by the time they saw her, and Spencer knew that if he touched her it'd be firmed in death. She was fit for her age, one might say overly so. Nothing about her job as a cashier at the local grocer's said that she did anything resembling athletic. Her death rocked the tiny town she lived in, and everyone was clamoring for answers.

The Bureau called for the BAU Alpha team because this was the eighth body on American soil. There was nothing connecting any of them. Their habits didn't intersect, their jobs and social circles were leagues away from each other and nothing about their physical appearances matched a type. Some were blonde, others brunette, a ginger, men and women, all different ages, races, and body types… the only thing that even looked out of place was the star that each one of them had. Located at the base of left ear, it was etched in with their blood. Carved, actually. There was no evidence whatsoever. Nothing under their nails or between their teeth, no proof that they fought save for their twisted, resigned expressions and the fact that their bodies were all mangled in some way.

"Are you alright?" Someone asked. Spencer's head jerked up and he turned around to find that the deputy sheriff had come back from almost a full day of talking to the press. They weren't getting anywhere, and this was their fifth day there. People were getting impatient.

"Fine, thank you." He mumbled.

"You looked like you were going to be sick. Want me to get your boss?"

No, he did not. Spencer wasn't technically supposed to be here. They were done for the day, and the rest of the team was at a local restaurant. Spencer had declined to join them and instead slipped into the coroner's office just as they were going home. He'd found the deputy staring at the victim like she was missing her own left arm.

"I'll get back to them. I just wanted to check something before I turned in for the night. How are you doing?"

The question rolled off Spencer's tongue easily enough, considering that the woman beside him looked as though she'd lost all her world.

"I… I'll be fine as long as we catch this bastard. Kenzie was an inspiration. A role model. She's held the same job for be the past decade. Could do anything but she liked Paula's Place, I guess. She was like a town elder. Collected plenty of kids and turned them out just so. Made my job plenty easier. She's the one who championed the community center renovations. Said 'her house was getting too big to be hosting all these get togethers.'" The deputy chuckled bitterly. "If anyone could embody the town, it was Kenzie."

"Do you know when she settled in here?"

"Thirty years ago. She came without anyone or anything but the clothes on her back. No one ever figured out where she came from. Or, at least I didn't."

"You said she took in kids. Was she a foster licensed?"

"Not officially. If someone in town needed a place to stay for the night, she had an extra room or two. You guys searched the place the other day, you know what I'm talking about."

Spencer nodded.

"She liked to tell the wildest stories. Every kid knew the story of the week by heart. Always had something to do with these amazing people. One could look at a thing and know where it's been. One could walk through walls, another could travel in internet in their head! I think her favorite character was a guy who was modeled after a husband or something. He was a master tactician. Could see the outcome of any choice someone made just by being close enough. She talked about him so fondly that everyone figured he was her husband who'd passed away. Or at least that's the theory."

"What was his name?"

"Didn't say. Everyone was named after animals and plants and myths. This guy was called Snow Leopard, can you believe that?"

Spencer froze at that. Snow Leopard is Layla's codename in the Crusade. Everyone has one. Faulkner was Eagle when he went out in the field. Jack is Impala. His had been Shadow Wolf. He'd never understand why that codename in particular, but some of them were passed down. Recycled once an agent went into retirement. Waller was old enough to be retired from regular work, let alone the Crusade. Had she known someone from the program? Was _she_ an agent?

"Who else did she mention? Any plants and animals in particular?"

"Roman was one. And Owlface. Cheetah was rare, but it came up. Why, do you know something?"

Spencer shook his head.

"I think they're just stories." He said. "I was wondering if she used animals to name characters in adventures she read about. People do that all the time when they write."

"Kenzie wasn't much of a writer, so maybe she picked that up from a friend of hers."

"Maybe." Spencer offered. "Why don't you come with me? My team is out to dinner and they like to talk."

"Sure. I guess I could be done for the night." The deputy exhaled roughly. "I… I don't know why, but I get the feeling that there was so much more to her than we all knew. What if we don't find who did this?"

"If you don't, then I will." Spencer informed her. "I need you to trust me on that."

* * *

"Hey Alex, the usual?" The hostess asked when Spencer walked into the restaurant.

"No thanks, I'm gonna sit with the Feds." The deputy, Alex, responded solemnly.

"Alright. They got plenty of room, so go right ahead."

"Thanks, Clarice." Alex nodded to the hostess as Spencer scanned the restaurant. The team was settled in a corner with no window, but a large painting of two women laughing over a humongous pizza was seen behind Hotch, who flicked his hand above his head and gestured for the pair of them to approach.

"Hey, Spence, who's your friend?"

"Deputy Marshals." Alex introduced herself smoothly. "Dr. Reid bumped into me at the coroner's office and said that dinner with you all might take my mind off things."

"Welcome, then. And we tend not to talk shop at dinner, so feel free to takes seat."

Alex did, settling in by Garcia while Spencer sat to Hotch's right.

"What do profilers talk about over dinner?" Alex wondered.

"Morgan was telling us about his vacation in Cancun and we're eating every time he mentions seeing a pretty girl. If it were shots we'd be drunk." Emily drawled. Spencer snorted. Morgan loved talking a good game, but he was a look don't touch kind of guy. He always made it obvious that he was joking.

"Hey, when's the last time anyone else talked about their love lives. Spence, how's that Layla girl you mentioned? She still around?"

Hotch's lips twitched and Alex snickered.

"Out of town." Spencer informed the group. "Should be back tomorrow, if she knows how to tell time at all."

"Busy woman?" JJ prompted knowingly. Spencer often spent the holidays one of three places: Hotch and JJ had standing invitations for dinner any time, and Dr. Loka always welcomed him regardless of the time of day. That didn't change when Layla was in town, so Hotch and JJ had met Layla more than enough times to establish truth from fiction.

"Work took her out of the country this time. She'll be knocked out by the time I get back to DC."

"How long have you known her?" Emily wondered.

"She saw me through the angsty teenager stage and apparently thought it was a good idea to stick around." Spencer deadpanned.

"Sounds familiar." Hotch coughed a laugh.

"I really can't imagine you having an angsty teenager stage, SSA Hotchner." Alex admitted as she dug into her freshly made pasta.

"Everyone has their thing." Spencer offered.

Alex stared at him and allowed her fork to clatter to her plate.

"You know something about Kenzie." She accused evenly.

"I know what everyone else at this table knows about Ms. Waller."

"There's more to it. You just said it yourself, everyone has their thing. What if the stories she told weren't just stories?"

"Meaning…"

"What if she actually knew someone called Snow Leopard? What if Cheetah, Roman, and Owlface were nicknames. Don't you think we could find them?"

Hotch took over from there.

"Did she ever describe what they looked like or did she only use the fake names?" The unit chief demanded.

"She only used the names."

"What kind of stories did she tell?"

"Wacky stuff. Drug trades ruined by a kid riding a moose, ziplining through fire to find some lost treasure, some villains in a huge underground network… that one was a series. I don't remember them all, though. You might have better luck with the neighborhood kids."

"We'll talk to them tomorrow." Hotch assured Alex. "For now, let's just eat."


	3. Chapter 3

"What are the chances this has something to do with your college years?"

Hotch was perpetually unlucky enough to share a room with Spencer. On the surface, it was because Hotch snored like a bear and Spencer tended to talk in his sleep. Those things did happen, there's no denying that. One time, Spencer woke from a nightmare with an old friend's name on his tongue after thrashing about all night. Morgan had insisted that he'd never sleep in the same room as his genius friend _ever again no Hotch you couldn't pay me!_ That was years ago, but it sort of ruined shading a room with him for everyone else. Not that anyone else had tried. Just this once, Hotch was grateful for it.

Spencer didn't answer at first, scuttling around the room and knocking at the walls.

Hotch was confused, but gave it a few minutes before he asked again.

"Okay, we're clear. Except for the part where the walls are paper thin, but nobody around here gives a shit anyways."

"Reid." Hotch snapped.

"They don't." Spencer grumbled. "Deputy Marshals might be onto something but if she is then whoever did this is long gone. We won't find them here. And that's if she's right, a pretty big if, considering nothing about her life here showed any signs of being with the Crusade."

"But this is bothering you." Hotch realized. "Because she could be right. You can't have been the first agent to retire early."

"And I won't be the last. If I go poking around I'm not sure how welcome I would be, but the least I can do is see if Layla or Jack have any ideas."

"You…" Hotch hesitated here. "You seemed edgy when she mentioned the codenames. Did you know people with those ones in particular?"

"Names get recycled. Whoever had it when Waller knew them likely doesn't now."

"Who do you know?" Hotch wondered.

"That's not mine to say." Spencer admitted. "But I _really_ hope this is just a run-of-the-mill case."

The odds were slim, but it was nice to dream.

* * *

"You sure are grumpy today, Spence." JJ's voice yanked Spencer from his thoughts and he turned to find that the blonde had a concerned look on her face. "This case bothering you more than usual?"

"I'm fine." Spencer ground out.

One good thing about JJ is that she knew when not to push. Layla did too. Jack never stopped trying to get under someone's skin or into their head. He often had to be pushed out. Jack thinks it's an extension of his power. He was always trying to get into or out of something. Including people.

"If you need anything-."

"I'm fine." Spencer insisted.

JJ was the last person he wanted to talk this over with. The people he needed to see weren't here.

"Okay." She said, and left.

Spencer must be throwing off danger vibes with how smolderingly furious he was. Maybe that would keep people away.

"We're landing in a few minutes." Hotch's voice slammed into his ears and Spencer nodded, closing his eyes. "Are you going home?"

"Hopefully." Spencer scowled. "Why so many questions?"

"You found something different that could have been useful. We know that the killer has moved on, but your talk with Deputy Marshals might have put us on the right track. You should be proud."

"That is the exact opposite of what I need to be, SSA Hotchner. If those codenames are real then my time here is up."

"What makes you think that?"

"The last mission I went on, we were made before we even got through the door. Our enemies never found the man on the inside, but someone tipped them off that Layla and I weren't who we should have been. Jack had to claw his way back into their good graces and even then, they went underground and the mission was put on hold, technically deemed successful. Now eight people turn up dead with stars behind their ears and one of them might have slipped some things about her shady past to the people around her. The _last_ thing this needs to be is something to do with the Crusade."

* * *

"Dr. Reid."

Strauss called Spencer into her office almost as soon as they got back, and he walked in to find Hotch and Agent Faulkner standing shoulder to shoulder. Something was absolutely wrong.

"Agent Faulkner." The genius murmured uneasily. "Apparently I was right about this case having to do with the Crusade."

"You could be, but that's not why he's here." Hotch offered.

"The Calvins have gotten their feet back under them. Your team was the last sent in. You need to go underground."

"That's likely not an option."

"Your job will be here when this is all over-."

"Thank you, Section Chief Strauss, but that's not what I meant. If all of the agents sent to deal with the Calvins start going underground, wouldn't that give them a hitlist?"

"You misunderstood, Dr. Reid. Agents who dealt with the Calvins can no longer associate with the Crusade. It would be in your best interest to go under because we has no resources to spare. You all will, quite literally in some cases, be on your own."

"This was a courtesy."

"It was."

"And the other teams?"

"Have gotten similar messages from their handlers. I've done so three other times."

"Thank you for your time."

"Good luck." Was all Faulkner said before he slipped out of the room.

"Do you have any ideas?" Strauss wondered.

"A few." Spencer offered, throat thick. "I can't just pick up and go when my face hits the papers. Like I said, it'll lead them straight to us. I'll have to figure something out. Thank you for the information. May I take my leave?"

"You're free to go, Dr. Reid… good luck." Strauss murmured. Spencer nodded his thanks and shuffled out of the office.

"What'd Strauss want with you?" JJ wondered when he got back to the bullpen.

"Confirmation. Hotch talked about the animal names in the report so she wanted to cover all her bases."

The lie slipped out easily enough, and though he despised it, there were some things they just didn't need to get wrapped up in. They would… eventually. His goal was to keep them out.

"I'm heading out." He announced.

"Lemme guess, you finished your paperwork."

"Yep." Spencer chirped.

"Dr. Reid, I'm not sure you're alright to go home yet." Faulkner's voice rumbled through his earpiece and Hotch was on the steps.

"He's not going home." The Unit Chief informed them both.

"Why not?" Spencer wondered what story he'd come up with to keep the rest at bay.

"You've got a stalker. There's no way you're leading them straight to your house."

"Reid's got a stalker?" JJ parroted, alarmed. "You'll take some agents and get stuff from your place, but you can't go home tonight." Hoych continued as if he hadn't heard JJ.

"You think keeping me holed up somewhere can make this go away?" Spencer scoffed.

"It will deter them until we come up with a plan."

"And endanger your people in the process. Why are you so willing to risk everything for someone you'd barely call a friend?"

Hotch shot him an even look that let Spencer know he wasn't buying it.

"This isn't up for discussion."


	4. Chapter 4

The door was locked when Spencer led Hotch, JJ, and Emily to his apartment. He slid his hands through the hinges and scanned the top of the door.

"Okay, so they're inside." He determined.

Something was different about the house. Either someone was already there or they had been.

Spencer inched the door open only to get it wrenched from his hand and be flung against the closest wall.

"Codename." He ordered lowly.

The intruder, a dark-skinned man with brown hair and forest-green eyes, reared back as if he'd been burnt. Whether that was due to what Spencer said or because the rest of the team had guns trained on him, Spencer didn't care.

"Codename." Spencer repeated. The man narrowed his eyes but responded anyway.

"Snow Leopard. You're the ones who found Kenzie."

"We are." Spencer exhaled roughly. "My condolences."

"What are you doing here?" The intruder, Snow Leopard, wondered.

"We should be asking you that question." Hotch growled suddenly. "This is Reid's apartment."

"This was a safehouse ten years ago." Spencer recalled. "If Snow Leopard has been out of the game that long, it'd make sense for him to come here. And he wouldn't know much about the Crusade from them on."

"Besides, this place has been wiped. It's not yours anymore."

"Have you checked it for anything?"

"Yeah, it's safe. Just empty." Snow Leopard insisted. "Name's Barkley, by the way. Since I know yours."

"Much obliged. Why don't we go elsewhere and I'll work on getting you all some answers."

"Good idea." Emily muttered as the five of them shuffled into the hallway. Spencer shut and locked the door behind him, placing the key on the frame above the doorway.

"How did Mackenzie Waller come up with a name like Snow Leopard?" JJ wondered.

"She didn't." Barkley said. "You must be one hell of a Chameleon if a bunch of profilers haven't sussed you out."

"There is a difference between keeping secrets and telling lies." Spencer insisted.

"For example?"

"I actually did go to college. No one ever asked what I did outside of that."

"Because college is a full-time job for most, especially if you're gonna be little busy-body and get a doctorate." Barkley teased.

"Five." Spencer corrected cheerfully.

"Pardon?"

"Five doctorates."

"Didn't catch that, Weedling."

"Math, Chemistry, Engineering, Psychology, Sociology."

"And you're how old?"

"I got them before 21."

"You… y'know what, kid, you're a gem. Your handler must have despised the very air you breathe, how in the world-?" Barkley burst into laughter as the elevator dinged and they shuffled in.

"Five doctorates. How much did you get in scholarships? Or did they pay your way? Or did _you_ pay your own way, you sneaky little shit?!"

"A change in attitude would be appreciated." Hotch informed Barkley.

"Sorry, G-man, it's just… five doctorates? And if you were in with the Calvins those last two had to be put to good use."

"I was invited to one party and stayed there for not even a full night."

"Wait a minute, you got into a par-. Should you be telling me this?" Barkley asked seriously as they trooped through the lobby.

"Last mission was fresh out the gate. I figure there's been enough time."

"In any other case I would believe you, but the Calvins? How are you alive? What the hell happened to the guy who got you in?"

"He still runs with them. Had to claw his way back into their good graces but he did it… somehow."

"I'm guessing you don't approve?"

"It's a long game." Spencer offered as Barkley dropped his keys and slid under the black truck to retrieve them. He shimmied from under the back end of the truck and nodded.

"We're good. You were saying?"

"It's a long game." Spencer admitted as everyone shuffled into the truck. "He's been under since we graduated. Eighteen and _that's_ the first mission they send him on. Around 2007, they start testing his loyalty. You try spending that much time under and see how long you last."

"Is that why you left?"

"I left because I couldn't handle the scope of things. Their carelessness only made me glad I did."

"You'd call it carelessness? He's got an in with the Calvins, do you know how much of a break that is?"

"And now they're cutting him off. Great way to treat someone who's been doing that big a favor and hasn't tried to kill anyone he wasn't supposed to."

"You're friends with an assassin." Emily realized.

A high-pitched whine emitted from Barkley's throat and he shook his hand in a _not quite_ gesture.

"Jack is… technically not an assassin." Spencer offered.

"Wait a minute, the guy you had over last Christmas was an assassin?!" JJ hissed. "You said he was an old friend with no place to go!"

"Because he is. That was his first on-the-books vacation since 2005, can a guy live?"

"What about Layla, is she an assassin too?"

"Oh for-. We're CIA, profiler, is that what you want to hear?" Barkley scowled. "I highly doubt that anyone has been doing any assassinating and even if they were, no one would know! It was a joke. The kid was obviously joking."

"It's not their fault nobody knows anything, Originally they thought it was some Girlfriend from Canada situation."

"But she's real." Barkley confirmed. "What's _her_ codename?"

"Snow Leopard." Spencer deadpanned.

Barkley hunched over, wheezing into his arm. When he came up for air it was obvious that he'd been laughing.

"Oh, this is gonna be great! I fuckin love being retired. Seriously, my sister-in-law will never believe me. She's FBI too, for some reason. And she's gonna kick my ass when I get back."

"You came out of hiding for a good cause." Hotch offered wryly.

"Yeah, I've got to keep believing that."

* * *

They ended up going to a hotel near Quantico. Spencer paid for two rooms and when each of them were asked for identification, Barkley surprised the others by revealing his.

"Your name really is Barkley?"

"Had this name all my life." He chirped, flashing the ID card that clearly stated he was Terence Barkley.

"Really?" Emily drawled.

"What dumbass gives you a reason to think they're lying about their own name?" Barkley scoffed. "If they have then they shouldn't be doing work of any sort, let alone government work."

"You call killing people government work?"

"I've never killed someone in my entire career. Never had to. Maim, injure, sure. Outright kill? Nope. And I'm glad for it. That does shit to you."

"Please keep the theatrics to as much a minimum as you can manage." Hotch drawled as they stood in yet another elevator. His eyes gleamed and something of a smirk showed.

"I might not be a Chameleon, but I've kept my mouth shut before." Barkley snorted. "I will admit that this has been something of a rough week."

For a while they were allowed to forget exactly what brought them together, as they learned more about Barkley and he about them. But now it was evident that the case of Mackenzie Waller would not go away. Or be the end of their problems.

"Kenzie retired before I did. Like Dr. Reid, she couldn't handle the scope of what had been asked of her. She served a number of missions, and we weren't always privy to what the other was doing. I can tell you what she was like more than I can tell you what we did, and even if I get permission it never ends well."

Their conversation was derailed by a loud high-pitched yowling, and every head in the room swiveled sharply in search of the source. On the rail of the room's balcony crouched a golden tabby with amber eyes. A brown falcon perched atop their head. Spencer snorted and opened the sliding door as the cat sprang for the concrete porch below the railing. They'd been holding on for dear life to that railing, and he could only assume that the bird, as exhausted and drooping as it was now, had carried the cat some distance. From where, he had no idea. But it would be interesting to find out.

The cat limped into the room and eventually started pacing, meowing with each turn.

"How the hell did you train those two to find you?" Was the first thing to be said. Barkley was the one to speak, and Spencer didn't have to look back to know that the older man had a stunned look on his face.

"I didn't know you had time for pets, Reid." Emily noted.

Spencer thought briefly of addressing her remark, but figured they would see for themselves soon enough. Instead, he focused on the strange pair he'd let in.

"I hope you know that we can't understand you." He informed the cat. The cat didn't so much as miss a step as they continued pacing. Spencer got an annoyed hiss for his words.

"Just saying."

The cat scowled at him and… got bigger. Way bigger. Stood up on hind legs. The limbs grew longer, paws more pronounced. The cat slowly turned into a human-cat hybrid, a human with feline features and thick striped fur that covered her skin. Her tail peeked out from a leotard and tights, flicking back and forth as she paced. Her meowing turned to mutters now, and it was easier to see why she was so agitated.

"Stupid flying rat with his stupid claws and stupid flying. What kind of dumbass doesn't at least stop for a break? I don't know what I was thinking, letting this go on for as long as it has. Should have gotten Link out way before this. Fucking birds. God, I hate birds. Why the hell would he turn into a bird and then snatch me up out of nowhere? Who thought that was a good idea?"

"Long day?" Spencer snorted, noting that the bird on her head hadn't so much as chirped in acknowledgement.

"You could say that, yeah." She snorted.

"What the hell happened to cause a partial shift? You haven't been this trapped in years."

"Link hasn't responded to anyone's calls and then I hear from Jake that we're all off-leash so of course I try looking for him-. What are you staring at?" She demanded, turning to face him.

"Your friend hasn't moved a muscle since you both got here. I'm assuming they're stuck as well."

"He probably is, the dumbass. Though I can't say I remember him having a shifting power. It has been a while-."

"You've met him before?"

She nodded and stopped, staring up to where she presumed the bird to be.

"Aw shit, I didn't expect you to be that stuck. Is this your first shift?"

The bird croaked weakly and ruffled their wings. Layla scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Hard way it is, then." She grumbled. Without so much as a warning cry, she plucked the bird from atop her head and threw it at the opposite wall like a star pitcher at a baseball game. The bird hit the wall and then the floor with a loud thud, and was quickly replaced by a man Spencer definitely knew. The only problem? This wasn't Link.

"You have a terrible habit of picking up strays, Layla." Spencer grumbed.

"Well he had no trouble picking me up and dragging me all the way back here with no warning whatsoever. Have I mentioned that I hate heights?!"

"It might have come up once or twice." Hotch deadpanned.

"SSA Hotchner!" Layla crowed, eyes bright as they narrowed in on the room's remaining occupants. "Always fun when you're in the thick of it."

"Much the same can be said for you, Agent Jones. Is there a reason you're harboring a wanted criminal?"

The man on the floor groaned and mumbled something barely audible.

"Pain…" He mumbled. "God, just kill me now."

"That can be arranged," Spencer offered, amused, as he loped toward the man. "if you don't find who you're looking for."

"I will get him back."

"Forgive me if I don't hold my breath. You can barely blink let alone sit or stand."

"Can I die on your floor, then?"

"If you must… Sleep well, Calvin. Might be the last chance you get for a while."

The strange man, Calvin, rolled over with a pained grumble. Spencer settled himself beside the ailing intruder.

"Link really did it, the crazy bastard." Spencer groused. "Honestly, of all the tricks to play…"

"You think this was a trick?" Layla scoffed. "That fucker just flew halfway around the world to drop off someone he barely knows. If this thing of theirs is a trick then I want a divorce." Layla yawned widely, showing off sharp canines.

"You actually think they're serious?"

"Link wouldn't have survived this long without an anchor. On top of which that guy you're sitting on is half dead in enemy territory. Of fucking course they're serious."

"Oh that'll go over real well with Faulkner." Spencer snorted.

"We were cut off, Spence, Faulkner can't do shit now."

Layla froze in her tracks and stared at her feet, tail lashing.

"We were cut off." She mumbled again, eyes glassy.

"You gonna throw a fit?" Spencer prompted, suppressing a yawn.

As if on cue, Layla's form flickered heavily until she looked more cat than human.

"No." She growled. "I can deal with this, I just… fuck."

"Yeah, sounds about right." Barkley scowled. "Your reaction to all this is surprisingly underwhelming. Are you seriously more upset about heights?"

"She almost got thrown off a building, so I can't exactly blame her for prioritizing." Leo grumbled from his corner. "Stars above, everything hurts."

"Then go back to sleep." Layla snorted.

"Can't." Leo grumbled. "Dying on the floor."

"You're too coherent for that. You probably just need sleep like the rest of us." Spencer offered. "Which you likely won't get in this state."

"Death."

"Jack would kill me and I'm not nearly as suicidal as you are."

"That painkiller thing you do? Should last long enough to get moving."

"Find your own high, Calvin." Spencer snorted. "Or just go back to sleep. There's no point in trying anything else."

The man on the floor twitched feebly, a full-body shudder that was barely visible to the human eye.

"Fine." He said at last, closing his eyes. "Wake me up when it's time to go."

Spencer snorted and turned so he faced the room's remaining occupants. Layla was done pacing, and chose to curl up at the edge of one of the beds. She managed to keep her shift as a cat and somehow commandeered Hotch in favor of a headscratch.

"I feel like this should be your job." Hotch snorted as the golden tabby butt her head against his hand.

"It's anyone's job." Spencer mumbled drowsily. "She's not picky when stressed."

"Are you guys seriously not freaked that Reid is dating a cat?" Emily blurted out.

"Layla Jones is a shapeshifter under a CIA program known as the Children's Crusade." Hotch informed she and JJ. "She graduated along with Reid and their friend, Jack Lincoln, at age 23."

"A shapeshifter… and Leo Calvin is a shapeshifter as well?"

"Calvin is a Mirror." Barkley murmured, confused. "I thought those were schoolyard tales. Stories our handlers made up to keep us in line. But if he's really like that…"

"He is." Layla yawned through cat's teeth. "When he's around Jack, he can teleport. I thought that was his power until he shifted today."

"And, what, he's a double agent?"

"I'm starting to think he was never one of them in the first place."

"Really? Where's that come from?" Spencer wondered.

"He came way too quietly. Jack's good, and he's had long enough to be effective, but Leo was never a fan of his brother's work. We could never get ahold of him, even if he was confirmed to be one of Peole's inner circle. What's more is that the Calvins completely left him alone. If they hadn't then they'd have found Jack a lot sooner than this. He's one of them in theory, but I bet he could pick up and leave any time he wanted."

"How'd you come up with that?" Hotch wondered. "That's a hell of an accusation."

"His first response was to drag me back here when I found him. His apartment was ruined, Jack was nowhere in sight, he was obviously stressed, but instead of kicking me out of turning me into the rest of his crew, he came here. I wasn't kidding when I said it was a nonstop flight. He's got no loyalty whatsoever to whoever's in charge of the Calvins right now."

"So what happens now? He came all this way. We're not leaving him for dead, are we?" JJ asked, concerned.

"Nope." Layla chirped. "I don't know about you, but I definitely need a nap. How long have you got this room for?"

That seemed to be the end of that. Hotch was wary about leaving the former CIA agents to fend for themselves, but they were too tired to move. He and JJ, at least, had family to check on and Emily certainly had plans that did not involve staying in an unknown hotel room. With multiple assurances that they would check in as needed, the BAU trio left the hotel.


End file.
